by Garland Roberts

At an evening gathering to say goodbye to one of the CPT Iraq team members, I visited with Rajal.  He is about twenty-five-years old and works as a technician with a U.S. university here in Suleimaniya.  At the party, he told us about his recent drive to Baghdad, where he visited his old neighborhood—his first trip back since he and his parents had relocated to Suleimaniya in mid-2006.

He was shocked by how the mood of the city had changed.  He already knew of the terribly distressing experiences the residents were forced to endure in 2007, how each new day revealed more bodies lying in the streets.  The bloating corpses and foul stench were evidences of brutal, sustained violence.

Now the city is quiet.  He believes it is safe from random attacks and intrusive searches.  However, only about three of the twenty families who had lived before in his neighborhood are still there.  New groups are living in their houses, in his house.  The behavior of the people is more austere.  They seem fatigued and depressed....

On the third day of the nonviolence training, we began to focus on reconciliation between the ethnic groups that are in tension in Iraqi society. Fifteen people representing independent Kurdish human rights organizations had been participating. In the group were women and men working to combat violence against women, individuals speaking out publicly about government corruption and abuse of prisoners, and leaders of youth clubs or cultural centers. All were members of grassroots citizen's groups that have chosen to work for change nonviolently and are independent of the two main Kurdish political parties.

The earlier sessions had dealt with dynamics of violence and nonviolence. The next step would be more difficult....

It is Pentecost. The Team gathers for prayer and leaves its apartment to conduct a training in nonviolence and reconciliation with people from the Kurdish and surrounding governorates. They have come from Tikrit, Mosul and Kirkuk. They have lived in Baghdad and Kurdish villages. A few speak English, most Arabic, some Kurdish, and one of us, Cantonese.

How will we communicate? Will they stare, bewildered like those first Christians who heard the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in languages not their own? Will they be angry at our presumption that we might have anything to offer? Will they be captive to their own allegiances, unable or unwilling to speak against the limitations of their own governments? Will they stay silent....?